Une Fleuraison Constante
(A Constant Blossoming)

By Tenshi no Ai

All French translations by Hawk of Death

(C) Square Enix

(Warning: Rated R for violence, death and semi-explicit sexual references.)

Chapter Ten: Red Frenzy

Nearby an open field of bristled short grasses stood a small grove. Curving in a gentle parabola with its vortex just a few sectae from reaching the grove's northwestern area, a stream that had wound its way from Larner Channel to this place and would eventually end in a shining lake somewhere northeast of Gariland village. The grove itself was one of the many groups of trees that stood between the castle and the town of Dorter, and though it was unimpressive compared to a certain grove blooming with flowers and fruits it was still a pleasant resting spot for weary travelers and casual hunters alike.

A girl who was called a princess knelt down before these trees, her loose hair scattered over her shoulders when she bowed her head in deference to the bounty of nature. While her hands formed the sacred four motions symbolic of the four major religions that had joined together under the guidance of Ajora Glabados she snuck a look beside her, where a girl who looked like a white mage went through the same motions. When the movements were completed, the 'princess' began to pray. "God, please help us sinful children of Ivalice," she whispered, but her true prayer was in her mind.

Please bring the Death Knights here, so that we may make sure that they can no longer threaten us. Please help us in this coming battle...

There was a third female there, dressed as a Holy Knight and standing off to the side, her face betraying nothing even as she heard the sound of fifty men closing in behind her. The girls before her must've heard the ominous march, for their postures stiffened and they did not turn around. The woman of the three also did not turn around, though it was not out of fear. Instead, a small smile graced her face. She looked into the clump of trees, into the darkness, and found a certain comfort there.

By the sounds behind her, there were two men approaching her now. One man's footfalls was heavier than the other's, crunching down on the wild grasses, and she knew this to mean that the mercenary Gaff Gafgarion was one of them. He often wore bulky, dun-burnt leather and metal, making him imposing even in his fifties. She was hoping his right-hand man was the other. They stopped behind her, so close that she had to fight down a grin while she turned her head slightly, the barest acknowledgment of their presence.

"Well now, you're Oaks, aren't you? You know what we want, so just hand her over and we'll spare you." The voice was gruff, whiskey-soaked, the voice of a man who knew well his reputation and the things it could get him. His was the voice of a man who was frequently at the eye of the storm, deadly calm while everyone around him stumbled about, fumbling over each other to make the errors he capitalized on. He so relied on the mistakes of others to complete his jobs.

Intimidation was wasted on Miluda Folles.

She spun to the right, unsheathing her sword within the same fluid motion, and thrust the blade out in a basic fencing motion. It found a warm sheath in the chest of the man beside Gafgarion, but to her dismay the man had not been Gustav. Clucking her tongue softly in disappointment, she withdrew her sword and watched the man fall without uttering a sound. Her only consolation was when she noticed the look of surprise on the Dark Knight's face, a sight so ridiculous on a hardened mercenary that she couldn't help but grin. "Hi there," she greeted, her voice as clear as the sky above them.

The Hokuten knights burst out of the grove, their upraised swords gleaming in the late morning sun.

-0-

Teta covered her ears and shut her eyes tightly, trying her best to ignore the carnage. She was inside the grove, the only one there. Delita wasn't with her. He was watching the entrance, along with Ramza. Alma, against explicit orders from Zalbag, was there as well, giving aid to any injured Hokuten who could reach her in time.

But Teta couldn't do that, so she hid.

-0-

The initial motion of battle was like a wave, the Hokuten thrashing down upon the Death Knights with the full force of the high tide. After that, things became confused as the much larger numbers of the Death Knights seemed to swallow up the Hokuten in whirlpool, all green and white with blue swirling around and around but never draining out.

As a girl of the hills, Miluda distrusted the ocean. She preferred solid, well marked paths and so, despite her relative inexperience with the raging motions of large battles like the one she was currently in, she tried her hardest to cut a path through. Slashing through one mercenary who dared stand before her, she kicked his body out of the way and continued on, narrowly avoiding a thrust from a Hokuten and resisting the urge to sink her blade into his chest for that insult.

She was looking for someone. Her brother? Gustav? It was hard to think with the bodies closing in, falling all around her. Taking deep breaths, she cut through a swath of Death Knights huddled around a young knight. With a glance, she realized that this boy was wearing the tabard of the Limberry Aegis Knights, which looked strange with his Hokuten regulation cape. The boy glared at her, aiming a crossbow at her face, but she was close enough to knock his aim off kilter with her sword. I wish I'd learned how to break weapons, she thought sourly. "I'm not your enemy. Try aiming for someone who is," she spat.

"You are a Death Knight! You dared to swarm through Limberry like locusts, killing and stealing like the pathetic animals you are!" the boy screamed in righteous fury. Miluda would've found it amusing how he was acting as if he was above her when he was sprawled on the ground with a dinky little crossbow if it weren't for the 'animal' comment. What would Wiegraf do, she wondered. He would've walked away, she was sure of it. He'd never let anyone know how far they had dug underneath his skin.

She was sick of being treated like she was worthless.

Miluda moved her sword so that it was just under the boy's chin, the tip jabbing his throat. "Listen, you obnoxious little brat. Right now you are a very useless lump of flesh that can't even save himself. You won't be able to do a thing in a real fight, so why don't you be a good little boy and hide?"

The boy sneered. "My blood does not allow me to follow orders from trash, especially a commoner bitch like yourself."

"Oh, really?" Her retaliation was swift, smashing the hilt of her sword against the boy's temple. With a cry he fell over, unconscious. The lady knight took in a deep breath, trying to calm the rage that threatened to take over. That was for later, when she had a real enemy to fight. Besides, if the Hokuten saw her now, they would mete out the sentence she had been lucky enough to escape from.

She strode away, reentering the fray as casually as another might take a stroll to visit a dear friend. There was a man she had to find, though she still hadn't figured out who.

-0-

"Alma, I really think you should retreat into the grove," Ramza said through gritted teeth. The flow of the battle was edging its way towards them, albeit slowly, and it was still too early to tell which side had gotten the upper hand. Outnumbered yet likely more skilled, it seemed to the cadet that the Hokuten were doing well enough without his and Delita's assistance. Not that it would've mattered anyway; they were under strict orders to protect their sisters and to flee if things turned for the worst.

In the distance, shimmery blue projectiles fell from the sky; they appeared to be blocks of ice, but there were no mage knights in the Hokuten, nor were there any magic users in the Death Knights. The blocks fell again, and this time Ramza could see them reconfiguring from multiple blocks into one large blade-like energy. It was very obvious to him that it was a Holy Knight skill. It was apparently obvious to Alma too, for she was smiling when he glanced at her. "I think we are doing just fine, Brother Ramza," she said, and he could tell that she thought herself to be completely in the right.

"Still..." he wavered, "you never know what could happen on the battlefield."

"Yes, yes..." she trailed off when she noticed the Hokuten knight limping towards them. He was bleeding from his left leg, and by the way he held the shoulder of his right arm he was incapacitated from further battle. Alma's eyes widened at this before she pointed at the knight. "Ramza, bring him over here!"

He worked on reflexes alone, running to assist the knight back to the entrance of the grove. Blood soaked through the knight's uniform into Ramza's, the metallic stench overpowering his sense of smell as he helped to bring the man to his sister. Delita, who had been quietly watching for any enemies close to their position, helped Ramza lay the man down onto the ground. Alma kneeled at the man's side, noting the injuries the knight had suffered before she raised her hands over his body and began to chant quietly to herself. A blue sparkle, almost resembling a fairy in its most commonly seen form as a firefly-like glow, began to hover between her hands. It spiraled around the man's body, seemingly dancing with glee as glimmers of light fell from its form, healing both broken skin and weary soul as the sparkles drifted onto his prone body. Reaching its apex, the main body of light burst in a flurry of iridescent glitter, bathing the knight in the full power of Alma's healing. Exhausted, the girl leaned forward, her hands gripping her knees in an attempt to hold herself up.

The knight opened his eyes and sat up, gingerly testing his once injured limbs. He turned to Alma, his face betraying his surprise. "Lady Alma, your training at Orbonne has truly magnified the scope of your powers. I would say that you could even surpass your lady mother in the space of another year."

"N-no...that is not true, Sir Lezales," Alma said, shaking her head. "My honorable mother is not one so easily outdone by just a few years of training."

"As you say, my lady." The knight stood, bowing to her. "I thank you for your service. We will clear these knaves from this field soon enough." He strode off, looking as ready for the battle as any fresh soldier.

Ramza watched the exchange between his sister and one of the Hokuten's senior knights, unwilling to say anything. He had an idea of how powerful Alma's magic had become during the first skirmish with the Death Knights, but to see it in plain sight was nothing short of shocking. She began to fall forward and he grabbed her shoulder, shaking her gently. "Alma, do you need an ether?"

"Mm..." She sounded drowsy. "Thank you."

"I will go," Delita interceded, not bothering to wait for a reply before he ran inside the grove to look for his sister. Teta had agreed to hold the restorative items for them, since she looked extremely hesitant to help with the healing duties. Delita didn't understand why, because he had figured that her stay at Orbonne would've helped her magic-wise, but he was happy that she was keeping herself out of trouble. It was too bad that Ramza couldn't get his own sister to do the same, the brunet thought as he grinned to himself. But they all believed the Hokuten would be victorious in the end, despite Ramza's caution.

"Brother, is that you?" Teta's voice sounded as if it was on the edge of hysteria.

Delita frowned. She must've heard him plodding through the undergrowth and assumed the worst, he realized. "Yes, it is just me," he replied as soothingly as he could. His poor sister. Why had she been ordered to attend this mission, anyway?

"O-oh, thank God," he could hear her say this just as he came upon her small, huddled form. The chirps from the chocobos stationed nearby were easy to hear, even above the din of the battlefield; they had been tied to face the river. Even with a means of escape so close by, she still looked deathly frightened, her pallor lightening her olive skin. "You are alright, are you not?" she asked carefully, her eyes wide as she examined him from where she sat.

"Yes, I have not been needed at the front just yet." He knelt down so that they were at eye level with each other. "Are you feeling alright, Teta?"

"I..." She looked away. "I am so worried for you...for everyone. And yet...I don't...I do not want to leave this area."

Gently, he touched her shoulder. "It is alright to be afraid. I would prefer it if you stayed here, anyway." She did not turn towards him, and he was worried that she was overly stressed with everything to listen to him. "Teta, I promise you that I will protect you, so do not worry," he said earnestly, almost pleading with her.

She had never failed to acknowledge him before. She was all he had.

"Protect me..." she whispered, now looking at him with shining eyes. "But what about my strength?"

This was new. He had never thought that his innocent sister had ever thought about strength before. "What?"

"No, it is nothing." She looked downward. "Please, take care of yourself too, Delita."

"I will," he promised. Leaning in, he kissed her on her forehead, something their mother used to do when their family was still healthy and whole. When he pulled away, he could see the curve of her lips, a rare smile, and it cheered him to see it. "By the way, I need an ether," he said, prompting a small giggle out of the young girl.

"It is a good thing you remembered now, or else Alma would be furious with you." Digging through a small knapsack, she pulled out a small bottle of pea-green syrup and handed it to her brother. "Alma is really working hard, is she not?" Teta asked, though her dark eyes were imploring as they scrutinized her brother's face.

"I suppose she is," Delita replied, patting Teta on the shoulder once before rising. "Well, I had better get this to her before she has a fit." He waved once, before disappearing around a bend.

And once more, Teta was alone.

-0-

From a young age, Wiegraf Folles had been encouraged to take up swordplay and follow the family tradition of knighthood. To him, being a knight in and of itself was never his true goal, but rather something that could open a world of opportunity. There was the honor of being a knight, and then there were the components one needed to be a knight. The latter was more valuable to him; the tactical and analytical abilities, the tenets of knighthood and weapon training skills he had acquired over the years had formed an imprint on his psyche that could never be outdone by the simple pride of being a knight. He was not impressed by the duties a knight held to his lord, and it had been a relief to be let go from his service of the Lionel Holy Knights. A knight's true service is to the people and to God, he believed, not to any one person who thought themselves more equal than others. His dream had been to make that belief into reality.

In the midst of the battle between the Hokuten and the Death Knights, Wiegraf could see his dream dying all around him.

Sidestepping the swing of a sword, he used his shield to intercept the blade of a dagger before he pivoted, slashing through two men with one strike. His mind was churning with analysis of all his nearby opponents, from their weapons to the distribution of weight that they applied to their stances, and he brandished his sword in response. He wasn't fond of abusing his Holy Sword skills, but he knew that his training in them had had the adverse effect of cutting into his strength training, making it inefficient to keep attacking head on. The strength he lost due to his special training was the same that he used in his special sword skills. It was an annoying paradox, one he had never figured out how to fix.

Blue energy crystalized out of thin air, forming into blocky prototypes of blades before they crashed down upon the green-clad men. He remembered once wearing that very same green, and he mourned the loss of that solidarity. Some of them had been frozen stiff by the secrets of the Stasis Sword and others had fallen outright, overwhelmed by the culmination of his attack along with earlier injuries.

And Wiegraf mourned.

"Your back!" he heard Miluda shout. He turned, bringing his shield up while bracing himself for the upcoming blow, but all he felt was a heavy body as it flopped onto him. His sister was there, holding her sword in the two-handed style reminiscent of a foreign style that was gaining popularity in Lionel. There was blood rolling down the length of the silver blade, and her Royal Holy Knight uniform was drenched in the stuff.

"Thank you," he said, pushing the corpse off of him. She snorted in derision as she sent the sword down quickly, flinging drops of blood onto the field.

"You say that as if I had a choice." He observed her as she looked around, her eyes taking in the carnage around them. Living together for as long as they had, he could tell that she was relatively apathetic by the scenes of brutality around them. "Well," she said as she glanced at him, "let's find Gustav. His death belongs to us!"

He wanted to, he honestly did. Gustav had betrayed him in every sense of the word. But there was still the matter of Gafgarion to contend with. "No. Miluda, you'll have to find him on your own. I'm going after Gafgarion," he ordered, knowing that she wouldn't balk at the idea.

There was slight confusion roiling about her light eyes before she shrugged. "Sure. That works out fine for me."

"Good. Try to be merciful-" A sudden movement to Miluda's right caught his attention. Before the Death Knight could attack, Wiegraf stepped beside her and thrust his sword out at the mercenary. An orange conical energy burst from the ground underneath the mercenary's feet, rocketing through the man's body. Sometimes the secrets of the Holy Sword skill set made themselves apparent in strange ways; this skill, while not visibly doing any damage, crushed the Death Knight's internal organs. The man was dead before he hit the ground.

"Merciful, huh?" Miluda muttered.

"Well, within reason." Wiegraf looked around; the battle was far from over and he was anxious to find the usurper of his dream. There was a glimmer of a smile on his face as he turned to her, saying, "Some people don't deserve mercy. I'll see you at the end of the battle."

She returned the smile, her features softening. It was a relief for him to see her smile without that mask on her face; she just looked more human that way. "I'll see you then." And then she was gone, darting into the heat of the battle as if she belonged there. It was a cold comfort to see his little sister so comfortable in the midst of such wanton bloodshed, but at the same time Wiegraf was proud to see that her spirit had never diminished even at the harshest of times.

God willing, he could rebuild his dreams if Miluda was right there with him.

-0-

Where is that coward? Where is that goddamned bastard!

Miluda tore through her opposition, a wildfire razing everything before her. There were no methodical, tactical attacks from her; unlike her elder brother, she'd never bothered to learn how to concentrate her strikes for maximum efficiency. That would just take too much time, and time was so very valuable to her at the moment.

She had to find Gustav. She was the only one who deserved to sink her blade into his heart. No one was going to take that away from her.

No one.

Running blindly through the field, she was surprised when a thrown dagger pierced her left arm. She hissed in pain and wrenched out the projectile, those few precious seconds enough for her to become surrounded by five mercenaries. Scowling now, she shifted her weight from one foot to another, her narrowed eyes and bared teeth giving her the appearance of a desperate animal.

"Miluda, just give up," one man said. She recognized him as a traitor, someone who had pledged loyalty to her brother but then secretly joined with Gafgarion and Gustav. They all were traitors to some extent, but the fact that she knew him only made her angrier.

"Go to hell," she bit out, tightening her grip on the hilt of her sword.

They laughed, all five of them. She could see them letting down their guard as they proceeded to really laugh it up, ha-ha-ha, that girlie sure is cute when she acts tough. They had always laughed at her, nobles and men both. Ever since she entered the service of the Lionel Holy Knights at fourteen, they had always found something hilarious about her. Next would be the comments, their oh-so-witty repartee about giving her a real sword to handle.

When she plunged her sword into the nearest man's chest, she only smiled as she noted that they weren't laughing anymore.

Tearing her sword out of him, a stream of blood arched beside her as she dove towards her next victim, the traitor she remembered. He had barely stepped back before she swung, the tip of the blade ripping through his throat. Faintly, he gurgled something before he fell, but she had already turned away, his existence already forgotten.

They never laugh at Wiegraf, she told herself. It was a familiar mantra, one that kept her rage at its peak. They look at him like he's Ajora reincarnated. They don't tell him that he'd be better off as a whore.

A straight jab to the face caught her unawares, bruising her fair skin. She moved with the blow, adjusting her position to better avoid the next punch. It was aimed at her face again, and she could only smirk before slamming her sword into his stomach, disemboweling the martial artist. She kicked him off her sword before pivoting to her left, cutting open the next man from left shoulder to right hip.

No, they never tell him that. They'd never dare tell him that he's just another hole to be filled. It's always me. Only me.

I'll make them respect me. Even if I have to carve it into them. They deserve it.

There was one left, and Miluda enjoyed the look of fear on his face. It was always the last one standing that had that look on his face, never the third to last or fourth to last or anything like that. She wondered if it was because she invariably looked like she had been in the epicenter of a hurricane of blood. Her face was splattered with drops of crimson, her braid heavy and sodden. The stench of blood was making her nauseous.

It was the price of power.

-Try to be merciful-

She remembered her brother's words and paused. There was only one left, and she was not innately cruel. Decision made, she waved the last one standing away. "Go. I won't kill you."

"You stupid bitch! You think I'm going to take orders from a whore?" the mercenary retorted, readying his sword.

Miluda only shook her head at this. "You're the mercenary, and you're calling me a whore? I swear..." Her anger diminished, there was something of weariness on her bruised, blood-splattered face. "Just go," she added, knowing that it was rare indeed when someone heeded her words.

After all, she was just a woman.

He lunged at her, which she gamely dodged. The killing was wearing down on her, and her brother's words settled uneasily in her mind. She ducked and weaved around the Death Knight's strikes easily, the durable clothes she wore more suited for such a effort than the metal armaments she was normally encased within. An idea formed in her mind and she followed up on it, swinging her sword as if she was going to break her opponent's weapon. She had never bothered to learn that particular skill, but the attack would have the desired effect. Unfortunately, the man thought she really was going to break his weapon, and flinched.

Metal tore through skin, bone and sinew, severing the man's hand at the wrist. He howled in agony, clutching the stump to his chest. Blood seeped from the wound into his green tunic, darkening the material black. Quickly, Miluda stepped forward and ended his life, sickened by her error. She had only wanted to cut off a few fingers and make him unable to wield a sword, not...that.

She wasn't merciful, but she also had no taste for torture.

So caught up in pushing down her revulsion, she was unable to recognize the sound of footsteps upon the crisp grass until it was too late. She half turned, but by then the sword raked across her unprotected back. A scream ripped through her throat as she fell onto the man she had just killed, the shock of the pain causing her to drop her sword. Stumbling, wavering, she turned around, groping around for her sword as large black dots wavered in her vision. She had turned completely around and was on her knees when she felt cold steel against her lips.

Slowly, her eyes panned upward. The edge of a sword. A knight's green and brown uniform. A primp, cocksure smirk. Cold, confident green eyes. Dark blond hair, strands of it falling into the man's face.

"Hello, Miluda," Gustav Margueriff said. The tip of the sword prodded against her lips, drawing blood. Slowly he let the tip run down, past her lower lip and down her chin, a thin trail of blood following its wake. "That's a good position for you," he commented casually, his voice falling over her like poisoned velvet.

The heat of her rage blanketed her again, but all it did was remind her how helpless she was now.

-0-

The Hokuten seem to be doing well enough, but I highly doubt they've killed Gafgarion.

Wiegraf moved silently, helping the Hokuten when they needed it. The majority of the battle was closing in on the grove, though he couldn't be sure if the Death Knights were still unaware that the 'princess' was a fake one. All the same, he followed the tide of the battle.

There was a strange whistle humming through the air. He looked up and spotted a crossbow bolt flying through the air, plunging harmlessly into the ground. Another one soon followed the same trajectory, this one hitting a mercenary in the knee. The White Knight was dismayed to see even more cutting through the air, raining down upon ally and enemy alike. Glancing in the direction the bolts were flying from, he noticed a Hokuten boy haphazardly firing away. No one else of the Hokuten was bothering to stop this nonsense, so Wiegraf decided to intercede. He would've figured Zalbag to choose more able warriors.

As he took one step in the appropriate direction, Wiegraf felt a queer tingle run through his body. It was unpleasant, like the tremor of a chill. The various scars laid upon his skin felt irritated in particular. He reached down to his stomach, sword still in hand, and touched one of the more painful ones, wincing at the stinging heat as his fingers made contact through the cloth of the uniform.

When he was fifteen years old, he had went hunting with his father at Bariaus Valley. There, he had been gored by a behemoth. Even now, he had a long, ripped scar along the right side of his abdomen. It was such an old scar that all there was left was the telltale mark of white scar tissue.

Today, fifteen years later, the scar began to bleed.

There were many other similarly old scars upon his body from many ventures in hunting and training, most of them with stories long forgotten by their owner. Today, they all bled as if what had caused them had occurred right then. He grunted in pain as they all reopened simultaneously, his blood soaking through the uniform he had borrowed from Beowulf. A wave of fatigue swept over him, lulling him into closing his eyes. He felt so drained...

With a start he broke through his lethargy, pure anger flashing across his face like lightning dancing across the night sky. "Gafgarion, you coward!" he shouted, adrenaline giving his weary body an artificial lift. "Show yourself!"

He saw the grizzled Dark Knight through his peripheral vision and turned to his left, facing the armored usurper. Gafgarion looked fresh, rejuvenated, and it sickened Wiegraf to realize that it was through his life force that the older man looked so well.

"Sorry kid," Gafgarion said, his tone insincere as he held his sword in front of him, "but I can't die here. I still have a job to finish."

The White Knight said nothing as he adjusted his grip on his sword and shield. He was only sorry that he was going to go into this duel with a disadvantage.

-0-

I think the battle should be ending soon. I...I need to be brave...

Teta crept out of the undergrowth, absently brushing off bits of dirt from her borrowed white mage uniform. Adjusting the pouch of supplies so that it fit more snugly inside her robe, she began taking small steps towards the outside world.

And then she heard the shouts of her brother and her friends.

Momentarily, she was at a loss. What should she do? It would be more prudent to run back, to hide away until the danger left...but what if they really needed her? What if Alma couldn't heal anymore, and a man's life was at the brink of fading away forever? What if that man was Ramza, or her brother?

She gritted her teeth and moved forward. Strength, that was the key. She held onto that mindset with a mythril grip. Even if she wasn't that strange lady knight, she could be strong.

The darkened grasses of the grove were softer than the crisp greenery that was constantly bathed by the sun, enabling her to hear over her timid footfalls. There was the voice of her brother, strong and brave, and she smiled to hear that he sounded as if he was nearing victory. Ramza's voice could be heard too, and she bit back a smile when she interpreted his words: half battle cries, half scolding Alma for not leaving the battle up to them. And what of her best friend? As Teta edged behind a tree and peeked around it, she could see her courageous friend, dressed up as the very image of the princess, digging her hands into the dirt and flinging stones at the Death Knights that dared approach.

It was funny, but it was also scary too. She tried not to gasp as one of the green-clad men jabbed his dagger in Alma's direction, only for her brother to thrust his sword into the man's stomach. There was a lot of blood gushing out of the wound when Delita pulled away, and the sight of all that red made her feel faint. Another thing that made her lightheaded was watching Ramza's battle with a very tall man. Ramza's back was to her, and she could see the cruel lines of fury etched along the tall man's face as they fought viciously, neither gaining an edge on the other. Suddenly, the man slumped over, and with the light Teta could see that there was a small object thrust in-between his shoulder blades.

There was a break in the fighting for the people she loved as the Hokuten moved in, sending the flow of the battle away from the mouth of the grove. Teta was pleased at this development, quickly approaching her friends and family during this lull. "Brother! Alma! Ramza!" she called, her voice steady. She liked that; perhaps she was already gaining strength? "Are you all alright?"

Her brother turned to her, the smile on his face at odds with the worry dwelling in his eyes. "Teta? What are you doing out here?"

Ramza faced her as well after a brief squabble with his own sister. "Is there something we can do for you?" he asked kindly. Teta smiled at this; Ramza was always so kind to her. She found it strange that Alma hadn't turned around from the battle to greet her, but it was okay because she figured that Alma was watching just in case someone was in need of healing.

"No, I wanted to see how you were doing," she countered in her soft alto, "just in case there was something I could do to help..."

"RAMZA!"

The scream was terrible, a banshee's howl instead of the normally strong tones one associated with Alma Beoulve. Teta could only watch in confusion as Alma hurled herself in front of her brother and let out another cry, this one full of anguish. Both siblings fell to the ground, younger sister flung along her brother's chest.

Teta didn't understand, didn't want to understand, but when her eyes settled onto the small object protruding out of Alma's chest, along with the growing stain of red marring the pure white dress, she was forced to realize the truth.

Alma, her brave and stubborn best friend, was dead.

-End to Chapter Ten-

This was a chapter I had been looking forward to writing for a while now. Finally, some action! I've been playing through the game again and I'm just after Orbonne Monastery in Chapter 3, so Shrine Knight Wiegraf has familiarized me with the way some of the Holy Sword skills look, particularly Crush Sword.

In the upcoming battles (both in the next chapter and beyond), I've employed a two-prong system in deciding how to write the battle. The overriding one is 'plot purposes'. The one that decides how the course of the battle will turn out, however, is my looking at the potential of a character at max levels in their own job class. I'll have a link to the stat guide in my bio so if you're ever so inclined you can see it for yourself. It'll certainly make the Gustav-Miluda battle very interesting to write (because they're both regular knights), and I'm lucky enough that the Elite Knight Commentary had the appropriate values for Gafgarion and Wiegraf (or else it'd be kind of hard to visualize on a statistical standard). Yeah, that might be overdoing it, but FFT is a unique enough game that I'd really like to play by its rules whenever possible.

Tell me what support abilities Wiegraf and Miluda have here and win a prize!

Next week, I start a new series. You'd think I'd have learned my lesson from Zodiac Signal...

Reviewers!

To the '...' people: I'm pretty sure there are two of you. I thank you both for your comments, as they are definitely what help me keep going, and I fervently wish either one or both of you would put down a name of your own choosing. Please?

Hi, Trueborn Chaos! Don't worry about saying the wrong thing or anything like that. I'm the sort of person that says exactly what's on her mind, so I fully understand. Mushy? Hah...
Oh, I see, we're the same age and the same sign. That's pretty cool!
Thanks about the teeth. Never even hurt a quarter of what I expected.
As you saw in this chapter, Algus is definitely one of the Limberry Aegis Knights accompanying the Hokuten.
Thanks for the compliment, and you actually typo'ed the typo. It's corrected now, thanks to you.

Hey, Luna! I never actually thought that Ovelia and Alma looked alike...well, actually, they do look more alike than anyone else in the cast. Well, a lot of that cast resemble each other. All that blond hair...
It's all good about the Zalbag-appreciation. Tell me, how are you finding the other characters?
Thanks for your concern, it's very appreciated. You're going to major in English, huh? Cool. I'm a psychology major, but these days I look more like an anthropology major.